River Sexy

Rationalization #4

Posted by on May 20, 2013

I’m back from my third rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. Unlike my first trip that resulted in three erotic essays and my second trip trip where I did erotic photo shoots, this voyage down wasn’t so sexy for me. I’ll admit this was more than a little disturbing since one of the many ways I describe my erotic memoir is river erotica (click here and here for a little tease). Normally the river seduces my man and consequently me, into this highly aroused, spiritually-awakened ecstatic state. Not this time.  And as you can imagine, I’ve been trying to figure out why....

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Full Moon

Posted by on Jun 8, 2012

Erotic photo shoots are like running big whitewater: Scary to think about. Super exciting in the middle. Incredibly empowering by the end. I’ve done three of them so far. You’d think that since I’m an erotic essayist and somewhat of an exhibitionist at heart, erotic photos shoots would be a breeze for me. Au contraire. First I have to lock my Inner Catholic Girl in a confessional. Then I have to transcend that conditioned cultural voice that wrestles with not being fit or thin or young enough which we all know is bullshit but… still. It rants. I rave back. You can too. When the opportunity...

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Confluence

Posted by on Mar 7, 2012

After two weeks apart, my man is less than an hour away. I have to break the bad news before he gets here.  I dial his cell and when he picks up, I blurt it out  quickly, like pulling off a bandage. “I have not one, but two cold sores on my lower lip.” “Oh no,” he says. “It sucks,” I say. “Well, actually, no, it doesn’t suck.” We share a disappointed laugh. We both know this translates to no kissing and no oral sex. Our sexy reunion has just suffered a serious blow, or lack thereof. But my kayaker has been flirting with the Colorado River for the past twelve days.  He’s mastered the art of...

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Class V Love

Posted by on Mar 3, 2012

Rivers have lots of class. I go for the cute, flirty Class II and III rivers.  My man can’t resist the femme fatale Class  IV-V types. He assured me that for experienced kayakers, paddling the Grand Canyon is big water, Class III.  No worries. At first  I imagined a cheerleader, one of those sweet ones with a ponytail and pom-poms. But it’s February and he went solo, in an extra-long, weighted down kayak. This cheerleader wears bright red lipstick, a matching thong and a leather jacket with a flask of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes in the inside pocket. The kind you would never trust alone...

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Skin Deep

Posted by on Feb 16, 2012

I’m lying in bed curled up behind my man.  Okay, so I’m clinging. He’s leaving this morning for two weeks. I don’t have the skills to follow.  He’ll be paddling his fourteen-foot kayak solo through the Grand Canyon. He needs this river adventure like a cougar needs a kill. The past month he’s spent too many days in his basement office at a computer working on a scientific paper for possible publication. He’s been acting a lot like his study animal, a frustrated caged one. So I must admit, back in January I was looking forward to this day. Not anymore. This week as he pulled out his river...

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